I Speak Baby
by lifewithdaleks
Summary: In which Clara is tricked into babysitting on her night off, and the Doctor comes in at the last second to help. (One-shot, mainly fluff .)


**This is just a drabble I wrote to even out my need for fluff (I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes in advance)**

**Enjoy :)**

Clara was at her wits end. Where was the Doctor when she needed him? He was good with children wasn't he?

She looked down at the baby boy in her arms with tired eyes, carefully tilted a bottle of formula into its mouth and smiled softly when the child greedily gulped down the milk being supplied to him.

Gently pulling the bottle away from him, she used her thumbs to wipe away the little dribble on the corners of his mouth and frowned when the baby looked back at her reproachfully.

"Don't give me that! I'm not even supposed to be taking care of you. I was the one who got suckered into babysitting you in order for Angie, your real babysitter, to go to the cinema with her friends. I swear, I can be very daft sometimes."

She giggled when the little boy wrapped both his hands around her index finger and put it in his mouth.

Clara pulled it back slowly, not wanting to hurt him.

"No, no, none of that. You've had your dinner, so now it's time for you to go to sleep so that Miss Clara can call Angie and order her to come back home immediately."

She had no idea why she'd started talking in the third person, but apparently it was something that happened when she was around babies.

The child's face screwed up, and Clara began shaking her head, "No, please don't..."

Wincing as the baby let out a wail, Clara rocked him back and forth in her arms, the movement futile in the face of an oncoming tantrum.

"Calm down little one," she said, biting her lip and pulling the baby closer to her chest.

This action, while well-meaning, actually caused Clara temporary deafness so that when a light hand patted her on the back, she startled quite badly.

She turned around to see Artie with his hands pressed firmly against his ears, a few of his dark corkscrews peeking out from between his fingers.

"Clara," he said loudly, "Not to be rude, but I am trying to watch a documentary on the birth of the universe, and I cannot hear a thing with that baby crying. Can you please make it stop? "

"Can't you see I'm trying," she snapped, "And anyways," she continued, her eyes flashing dangerously, and her tone becoming sharp, "You've watched enough television tonight! It's past your bedtime! Go to your room, and stay there for the rest of the night!"

"But-"

Clara sent him a glare, "Now."

"Alright, Alright. I'm sorry, mu-Clara."

Remorse weighed down her heart when Artie stepped away from her, his mouth twitching into a frown, and his eyes heavy with unshed tears.

She had forgotten how sensitive the ten year old could be.

"Artie…," she said apologetically, still cradling the crying baby, but before she could stand, he gave her a stiff nod, and ran from the room.

Seeing no other solution in sight, she gave the baby her finger, and fought off a twinge of disgust as it promptly began sucking on it.

She followed the boy out of the room, only to have his bedroom door shut in her face.

"Artie," she said in her nicest voice, "Artie I'm sorry."

"Go away," she heard from the other side of the door.

"Artie," she said, guilt making her throat thick, "Please, I said I was sorry. I didn't mean it, go ahead and watch your documentary."

When that made no difference, Clara's shoulders sagged and she gave the baby a pointed look, "See what you did?"

The baby just continued to chew with a toothless little mouth on her index finger, it's large hazel colored eyes going cross-eyed amidst its efforts to magically call forth more dInner.

Clara groaned, "Why me? I was going to go out for drinks with a mate of mine, and instead I got stuck babysitting."

_Clara was about to go downstairs when she heard a faint cry that made her freeze in her tracks, and walk backwards until she got to Angie's room._

_"Angie what is that," Clara asked, pointing at the baby lying between two pillows on Angie's bed whilst leaning against the door frame._

_The teenager looked as if she were about to burst into tears, "I forgot that I was supposed to babysit tonight for Mrs. Nightingale! Tonight of all nights! No,no,no,no, NO!"_

_The girl sat on the bed, her head in her hands, hot tears dripping onto her jeans._

_Clara straightened up, genuinely concerned about her unusually emotional charge._

_She sat down next to the girl, and quietly asked her to explain herself._

_"Nina is moving to Scotland for a year and she leaves tomorrow in the morning. She invited me to go to the cinema with her and Sarah tonight and now I'm stuck with this baby until ten thirty!"_

_"Well," Clara said trying not to be disappointed about spending her night off babysitting, "I suppose I can take care of him..."_

It had all gone downhill for Clara from there. Once Angie had left for the cinema, she had called Nina's mother to ask whether they were planning on visiting to London at any point in the next year, and then the truth had come out. Nina was not leaving London, and when Angie got home, she was so grounded.

The insistent ringing of the doorbell interrupted her vengeful line of thinking, and after cautiously descending the flight of stairs, Clara opened the door to see the Doctor with a pair of aviator goggles strapped onto his face.

"I've just been snogged by Amelia Earheart," he declared giddily, spinning around once on the porch step before striding past her and into the house.

"Doc-"

"She was awfully grateful when I fixed her plane," he interrupted, evidently not hearing her, "She laid one right on me. Ah, Amelia. What a spectacular woman she…was."

Leaning against the staircase, a misty look passed over his eyes, and it was then that he noticed a visibly miffed Clara holding a small baby in her arms.

He began stuttering, "How…how… is that… baby…yours? Oh dear, I've overshot again haven't I?"

Clara huffed, closing the door, "No, Doctor this child is not mine! I'm babysitting for Angie."

"Angie has a baby," he asked looking increasingly concerned.

Clara could have strangled him, "No, Doctor, he isn't her child. And, no, you didn't overshoot this time, you came too early. It's Saturday."

Clara had pulled her finger from the baby's mouth to close the door, and the baby in the absence of its pacifier had begun to cry once more.

"Oh great," Clara muttered, putting the baby's head on her shoulder and rubbing soothing circles on its back.

She walked into the living room and sank into the couch.

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Clara's mouth shot off in a quiet rant, "Why won't he stop crying? I've changed his diaper. I've fed him! I've you know… nurtured him as well as any woman can. What else can I do?"

The Doctor looked at the back of the baby and then to Clara's worn down face and sat down on the couch next to her.

"Here, hand him to me."

"Doctor, I'm not sure that's the best i-"

"Trust me, I speak baby. Maybe I can calm him down."

Clara elbowed him lightly in the ribs, "Now you're just pulling my leg! Babies don't have a language, that's silly!"

"What's wrong with silly?"

"Nothing, you're my best friend aren't you?"

"Yes…"

Until that point Clara had been staring at his maroon colored bow tie, but when he said yes, she slid her gaze slowly up to his eyes, and was taken aback to see a strong affection there.

She blushed, and forced herself to look away, "Fine."

She passed the crying child to the Doctor and was amazed to see that he knew exactly what to do, murmuring soft words to the child, and pressing a kiss to his forehead when at long last its wails subsided into hiccups.

"What a lovely name, Henry Nightingale," the Doctor commented in a whisper as Clara dropped her head exhaustedly onto his shoulder.

"Mhmm," she murmured, looking down at the sleeping baby.

They sat together in a relatively comfortable silence, Clara's free hand unconsciously resting on the Doctor's leg, and the Doctor's head on top of Clara's.

"Would you ever do this, Clara," he asked quietly, "Settle down, stop traveling with me… to get married…. Go off to make lots of little Claras' with some lucky bloke?"

Clara squirmed a bit on the couch, "Doctor, I'm not even in a relationship."

"But would you?"

"I don't know Doctor. It's a lot of work, and I'm around children so much as it is, so it's not like I'm missing out on developing my maternal instincts. One day though, I might like to have a little Clara of my own as you so well put it."

She felt the Doctor stiffen, and lift his head away from hers.

"Doctor?"

"I'm fine."

But he wasn't, and Clara could tell. He thought she was going to leave him.

She reached up to touch his cheek, rubbing her thumb down the length of his jaw and giving him a guarded smile.

"Not any time soon though."

Leaning in slowly, Clara pressed her lips tentatively to his.

She kissed him slowly, filling the kiss with as much reassurance as she could muster, and closing her eyes when he kissed back.

She pulled away very slightly, so that her forehead was against his, and found herself smiling at his dumbfounded expression.

"Any comments chin boy? Concerns?" She raised an eyebrow at this point, "Requests?"

"Cla-," he began, his voice an octave too high.

Coughing, he began again, "Clara. That was highly innapropriate. The baby is telling us to get a room for crying aloud!"

Clara pulled away entirely, crossing her arms over her chest, "Doctor, the baby is asleep."

His mouth open, the Doctor looked down at the baby then back to his less than pleased companion, "He… sleep talks."

"So you think we should get a room, eh," she asked, her eyes coming to life with mischief.

The Doctor began blushing furiously, "No. No. That's not what I meant."

Clara gave him a wink, and a quick bop on the nose, "A-ha! So you admit it."

The Doctor's eyes were a torrent of emotions: surprise, annoyance, and funnily enough, endearment.

"Gotcha, Chin Boy, and now since I'm the boss… "

Clara was taken aback when his hand suddenly appeared on the back of her head, pulling her up in a kiss that completely caught her off guard.

The first time had been nice, but this was different, more passionate for some reason, and she was so surprised by it that she felt herself begin to flail under his grip.

The Doctor pulled away and gulped looking at her shell-shocked expression with one of worry.

"Clara?"

The baby began stirring in his arms, making baby noises and gurgles.

He blushed, giving the child a firm shush.

"Clara," he repeated.

She jumped, looking anywhere but at him, "What did the baby say?"

He shook his head, "It's inappropriate. Bad Henry! Bad! "

The doorbell rang once, and Clara's thoughts rushed away from the Doctor to getting even with Angie.

She opened the door with her most disproving glare, but faltered when she saw that it was not Angie, but a thin blonde woman with a flushed face.

"I'm here for Henry," she asked brushing a strand of hair behind her ears, "Angie said she would babysit for me?"

Clara nodded, "Oh yes, Angie was, erm, taken ill with a bad cold. I'm Clara by the way, Clara Oswald. I've been caring for him. ."

The woman smiled, "How kind of you! I'm sorry if it made you abandon your Saturday night plans. If I had known… My husband may have been able to find someone else."

She reached into her purse and handed Clara a couple of banknotes, which the latter woman took gratefully.

The Doctor appeared by Clara's side, baby nestled in his arms.

He went pale when he saw the woman standing in the doorway, "Sally?"

The young woman looked surprised but showed no sign of recognition, "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

The Doctor smiled from ear to ear and shook his head, "Nope. Lucky guess! Lovely name, Sally. Absolutely brilliant. "

The woman grinned, looking the Doctor up and down and narrowing her eyes, "Are you Clara's boyfriend then?"

"No," Clara and the Doctor said simultaneously.

"Just a friend," Clara pressed, trying to skim over the fact that they had just kissed, not once but twice in the span of ten minutes.

"Right," Sally said, "And what's your name?"

"John Smith," he said promptly, "And it's a pleasure to meet you Sally Nightingale. A pleasure indeed!"

Sally grinned, "I'm sorry if I'm looking at you strangely, its just... you remind me of a man I once met. He's the reason I got together with my husband."

The Doctor lowered his eyes to Baby Henry, seeing the similarities between him and his mother, and feeling a warm happy feeling settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Goodnight you two, thank you for your help, and I hope Angie feels better," Sally said, and after one last grateful glance at the both of them, she turned down the driveway and walked to her car.

"Goodnight," the Doctor said happily.

Clara closed the door, raising both eyebrows, "You have met her before haven't you?"

"Sally Sparrow," the Doctor said, "She battled the weeping angels and saved me and my then companion Martha a few years ago. She's doing so well! I forget…"

Clara looked up at him putting her hands on his shoulders and beaming at him, "You forget that not everyone gets away from you in ruins?"

"Precisely," he said, cupping both her cheeks in his hands, and smiling, "I hope that's you someday... If you ever decide to leave me."

He frowned, unwilling to consider that she would stop travelling with him for another...permanent reason.

"Doctor," she said, launching herself onto his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug, "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
